Pretty Words and Crooked Hearts
by Infinitive
Summary: W.H Auden said "You shall love your crooked neighbor with your crooked heart."
1. 001

_"You shall love your crooked neighbor with your crooked heart." - W.H. Auden_

He never went to these things. Spencer was highly self-conscious and bit of a recluse by nature, so the more crowded nights weren't his favorites to go out. After dumping the contents of fourteen sugar packets into his coffee, he mixed his light and sweet drink and surveyed the room. The lamps had been dimmed and the aging light fixtures warmed the hue of the dark painted walls to a subtle burgundy. The small café had always been a comfortable place for his coworkers and him to escape their work and regroup.

"Coffee with your sugar, kid?" Derek grinned, sipping his darker beverage and glancing across the room and checking out the other patrons. Spencer responded with an eye roll and a half-hearted smirk, glancing off towards the makeshift stage at the rear of the room before bringing his gaze back down to book of essays he'd brought along for light reading.

The MC of the night was a tall kid with a wealth of visible piercing around his face and a sleeve of tattoos coloring his left arm. Spencer had seen him brewing coffee at least three times a week for as long as he'd been frequenting the establishment.

"Welcome to 'Out loud at the Burrow' " his voice was quiet and his hands hung loosely at his hips, fingers digging into the pockets of his tight jeans, "First up is one of our regulars, Katherine Holmes."

A girl stood up and made her way towards the stage toting a beautiful guitar in one hand and a water bottle in the other. She sat on the stool and adjusted the microphone, leveling it with her lips.

"Hey there!" she strummed gently once she plugged her instrument in, the strings sang lightly through the speakers. She shot her fingers towards the tuning pegs and adjusted her B string before strumming once more. "I hope ya'll are having a great night." She smiled upwards, looking to make eye contact with as many members of the audience as she could. She blew a fly away strand of dark hair out of her face and glanced towards the neck of her guitar. "This is a song I wrote a few years back…" she launched into a finger-picking riff before softly singing into the microphone.

"Not bad." Derek glanced at his friend, "A little slow for my usual taste, but with a voice and a body like that…" His white teeth flashed, the dimples appearing on his face as he smiled an all-American smile.

"She is…" Spencer shrugged, closing his book, "pretty." He looked a bit longer, based on her pale skin and the overall lightness to her complexion, she seemed European. She couldn't be more than twenty-five and had a lower voice with a subtle hint of a southern upbringing. Her fingers moved quickly across the frets of the instrument and she looked out further as she sang. Her song reminded Spencer of the old records his mother used to play, especially the Bob Dylan and Joan Baez songs she would hum to him after they'd read together; She'd keep humming in her slightly off-key tones until he fell asleep.

He looked a little closer and found himself drawn to the way the lights would flash and reflect off her blue, nearly gray, eyes. Her hair was long and it looked soft as it fell down her shoulders and towards her rib cage. She was more than pretty; she was beautiful. The kind of beautiful woman that hung on the arm of men like Derek Morgan and thus the kind of beautiful woman that wouldn't look twice at a lanky kid like Spencer Reid.

Not to mention she had talent. Spencer was always a fan of poetry. He could recite volumes of verse tracing back to the fifteenth century. However, much to his mother's disdain, his genius left him vastly incapable of writing anything beyond scientific or encyclopedic prose. He didn't quite have the gift of brevity or the ability to paint a picture with words, despite all the words he may know.

"You should talk to her." The older agent enjoyed getting a rise out of his younger companion, noticing the rise of blood to his cheeks.

"That would be," he flipped open the cover of the book once more and scanned the page he had long since memorized; the paragraphs and sentences all took a shape in his mind the second he looked away he could recite the third and fifth chapters or the sixteenth word on the 300th page ("abhorred"). "Absolutely horrendous. You know my track record with females is less than glorious." he grimaced.

"That's because you've yet to find your game."

"One can't find something that doesn't exist." Spencer listened as her song came to an end. For a split second, her eyes roamed along the perimeter of the room and made contact with his. She smiled warmly before taking a bow. The crowd kept a steady clapping rhythm, as several additional people had made their way in during the performance.

"Buy her a drink."

"I'm pretty sure the performers get drinks on the house." Spencer responded with such innocence that Morgan turned his head into his shoulder to hide his laughter in his shoulder and spare him the grief before allowing him to witness the severe rolling of his eyes. "If you don't go over there, I will."

"Morgan, I appreciate your concern but I'm not going over there and making a fool of myself."

"Oh yeah?" he took his friend's overly sweet drink and dumped it into the soil of a nearby potted plant.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Morgan chuckled as Reid's already high voice lifted up another octave. "That's not going to do anything. I'll just get another coffee, I don't need to talk to her." He stood up and trudged over to the counter.

"Yeah, yeah. Thank me later, lover boy." He dismissed his friend's whining and watched him awkwardly avoid eye contact with the girl who'd caught his eye. He laughed to himself, wondering how Spencer had missed the two or three times the girl's eyes fell on their table and the boy with his head in the book. Morgan couldn't help but think that Spencer needed a distraction after the last few weeks. The two had made a tradition out of having some male bonding time when they get back from hard cases, sometimes Hotch and Rossi come along when they're not dealing with their families or book tours, but for the most part it gives the two younger officers a nice way to unwind. In the last few weeks, his friend had seemed extra lonely and even less sociable than normal.

"It's not what he meant though; he wasn't trying to be ironic." her voice got higher as she seemed to get more frustrated, her hands worked their way into her hair as she spoke to the skinny barista. "It's not that there isn't a trace of irony in the text, it's that the irony isn't _the point_ of the text. It's so dense because it's meant to be inclusive." Spencer couldn't help but wonder what she was discussing in such an animated way. He approached the counter to order, hoping she would continue as he glanced down to his hands. He contemplated faking a yawn to allow him to get another peak at her.

"Hey." She smiled, raising an eyebrow as she spoke. He had to blink twice and work his abnormally fast brain exponentially harder to realize that she was addressing him.

"Oh, erm, hello." he leaned back on his heels and looked at the price listing.

"You look like a learned person." she commented, startling him again as she seemed to be leading him into a question.

"Uh, well, I'd say I'm part of academia." an uncomfortable laugh trailed behind this assertion. He felt like an idiot.

"Fantastic." she smiled and turned back to her friend, positioning herself to include Spencer in the conversation "You could probably settle this. Are you familiar with David Foster Wallace?"

"These things you find so weak and contemptible in us - these are just the hazards of being free."

"Infinite Jest." she smiled and he nodded, smiling a little too.

"I've read all his work. Now, what would I be settling?"

"Jonathan here," she gestured towards the barista with a punch to his arm, "doesn't quite understand that Wallace's approach to writing was meant to counter the poisonous atmosphere our irony-drench society created. It's length and amount of footnotes isn't meant to alienate the reader, but to provide such a breadth of narrative to create an 'infinite' and inclusive environment."

"Actually, that's true. Wallace constantly wrote about the themes of irony and solipsism as he struggled with the flaws in communication his entire life as a result of his clinical depression."

"Bam. I win." She thrust her fist in the air, sticking her tongue out childishly towards her friend. "You owe me free coffee for the rest of the week." He reached for a mug. "and one for my friend." Her eyes flashed to Spencer. "You just saved me three bucks. I like you." she waited for her cup. "Your name is…"

"Uh, Reid, I mean, it's Spencer, except no one ever calls me Spencer really, most people just call me Reid or Dr. Reid. But, err, you don't have to call me doctor." He could feel the words tumbling out of his mouth clumsily, he was flinching before he finished the sentence.

"Nice to meet you Spencer." she responded to his awkward introduction by ignoring his uncontrollable word vomit and choosing his first name. She figured it would be embarrassing to point out the flood of unintentionally volunteered information and she was intrigued enough by the doe eyed young man to give him a free pass. "My name's Katherine. So, a doctor, huh? What kind of doctor?"

"Purely academic." his eyes widened a bit, surprised that the conversation was carrying. "I work at the FBI base up in Quanitico."

"Should have known you were a doctor that reads." she laughed to herself, "You hunt aliens, or something?"

"Serial killers actually."

"That sounds warm and fuzzy." she deadpanned. Her eyes shifting towards the floor. Spencer always felt like his job was the ultimate deal breaker with pretty girls.

"Actually," he began a serious answer before noting the wry smile on her face, realizing she was kidding. "It sure is." she reached for her coffee and took a grateful sip, he mirrored her actions. She shuffled back onto her heels and glanced back up to him, acknowledging for the first time the drastic height difference. Her eyes found his and she smiled again, waiting for him to say something else.

"Your, uh, your playing was really nice." He took a sip of the cup, trying not to visibly cringe from the bitter liquid.

"Milk?" she raised an eyebrow handing an antique metal milk dispenser to him.

"uh, no, it's fine." She rolled her eyes and poured the milk into his cup before reaching behind the counter and chucking an unnecessarily large amount of sugar packets at him.

"You look like a light and sweet kinda boy." She drawled with a smirk, taking a gulp of her black coffee like a pro.

"I have a bit of a sweet tooth."

"Figured." she grinned, tossing a small red stirrer to him. "and thanks, I've been playing for a while. I love coming here to try out song ideas. It's a relaxing atmosphere."

"I could never stand on a stage and do anything like that." He added, "Not that I can sing or play an instrument of any type."

"Have you ever tried?" her eyebrows raised.

"My mom had me attempt to learn the violin, she thought it would help me relax, but she couldn't put up with the horrible noise of practicing and determined I didn't have a musical bone in my body."

"Understandable." she blew a strand of hair out of her face, "No one and nothin' sounds any good on the violin." Spencer laughed causing Katherine to laugh and there they stood laughing together for a minute while neither found what was just said to be all that funny. Spencer thought she had the most beautiful laugh. Katherine thought Spencer was so much more attractive when he smiled, but she sensed he didn't do it enough.

"Kat, hey, you have to get back up there for your closing set." She glanced back to Spencer and watched his face fall slightly.

"Where does the time go?" she rolled her eyes, "stick around after the set, we can talk more." her eyes were a beautiful steely blue that, when viewed up close, left Spencer wondering whether they were actually a shade of gray. She had that exotic look of dark hair and light eyes that was slightly unnerving and yet startlingly beautiful at the same time.

"I'd like that." While his social and romantic prowess had never been apparent, every alarm and whistle was going off in his brain telling him that an incredibly attractive female wanted to talk to him more. She smiled and walked around the counter to pick up the guitar she had placed in a case below, put her strap around her shoulder and made her way to the stage.

"To close the show, I'm happy to present to you again, Katherine Holmes!" Jonathan made the final announcement and left the stage with a spring in his step.

"Hey kid!" Derek appeared behind Spencer's shoulder. He looked over at Katherine as she took her place on the stool and noticed that Spencer's eyes followed her. "Looks like you two got on pretty well." Her eyes found the younger agents and she beamed at him. "That's my boy."

"Hey everyone," she kept herself open with the audience, smiling and making as much eye contact as she could, though she found her eyes working back across the room to meet with the warm eyes of her new acquaintance. "I hope you all enjoyed the show tonight; I got suckered into closing too!." a couple of renegade cheers broke through the crowd and a random, clearly drunk voice shouted that she was hot, to which a bright flush grew in her cheeks. "Er, thanks." she plucked at the highest string on her guitar and fiddled with the tuning peg as she bit her lip. "I wrote this a couple years ago, I hope you like it."

Spencer felt a vibration in his pocket, his fingers grazed over it to pick it up, but he was determined not to let his eyes leave the stage.

"You got that too? JJ needs us ASAP."

"I told her I'd be there when she got off stage to talk, she'll think I just left." the worry was visible in the crease in his forehead. "I don't want to be rude."

Thrusting a napkin and a pen into the younger agent's hand, he pulled out his car keys. "Then write her a note and I'll meet you out front." He quickly jotted out a note.

"Do you think you could, uh, maybe give this to Katherine?" Spencer asked Jonathan, feeling the unnerved break in his voice as he handed him the napkin he'd scrawled on seconds before.

"Sure thing." he smiled, knowing full well that his friend was watching the shy man throughout her performance. Spencer offered a smile and glanced back once more to the girl on stage before heading out to work.


	2. 002

** I really appreciate everyone who read chapter one. You've all left kind words and waited patiently, making me really want to provide a good story for you all. I've been swamped with class work and (though I had the first half of this chapter written forever) I've only managed to finish the second half in the last few minutes. You're all wonderful. Thanks for reading! **

Kat woke up to the phone going off next to her head. Groaning, she pulled the pillow tightly around her ears until the ringer died. By that point, the damage was done and she knew she wouldn't be getting any more sleep. The robotic voice that sounded out the name of the callers announced "Crier, Ryan" before allowing the answering machine to take over.

"Kat, it's me. You have an appointment at ten and -"

She made a few noises and muttered some choice expletives before sliding out of bed and heading towards the kitchen, letting her uncle prattle on to the empty air. she'd be sure to replay the message when she was more awake. Her D.C. apartment was a cozy size with warm colored walls that juxtaposed the severely low temperatures. Kat was raised in home that was kept chilled during the sleeping hours in order to avoid the breading of germs; while she wasn't sure if it really worked, she could never sleep in a hot room. She pulled a knit cardigan over her shoulders and hugged the material against her body as she padded across the carpet, feeling along the stucco walls and wiping her eyes.

She put the tea kettle on and took the comfortable seat across from the stove.

A tiny grunt came from outside the room and it was soon followed by the oafish footsteps of her bulldog, Bucephalus. At ten years old, he was hardly a puppy, so the chubby creature had the tendency to grumble as he walked and breathe deeply when he overexerted himself. He took a seat on top of Kat's feet and began to groom himself.

"Hey there, Boo." the girl smiled, reaching down to scratch behind his ears. He made a happy sound and lifted his chin higher sounding even more content as her fingers grazed his favorite spot. Glancing at the pile of papers on the table, she picked up a small black planner. She had penciled in a couple hours of solo writing time before a session at ten. She thought about the night before as she waited for the whistle of the kettle.

She was sitting alone on the bar stool after the set. The lights had been turned on and the patrons began to funnel out of the café. Jonathan had taken up mopping the floors and refilling salt and pepper shakers at tables, something she'd occasionally help with when she stayed late. After the last few audience members approached and asked for information about a CD or Myspace that didn't exist, she looked around for the guy she'd been talking to earlier.

It wasn't a common occurrence for her to chat up anyone, let alone a member of the opposite gender she found attractive (and that man was most definitely attractive with his pretty face and in-depth knowledge of David Foster Wallace.), so she felt a slight hit to her ego when the Spencer guy was nowhere to be found. She felt surprisingly at ease around him, sensing he was just as shy as she had always been and just as uncomfortable in the setting as she was.

Hell, she wouldn't be caught dead at an open mic if she didn't spend some time on stage.

She kept thinking back to his eyes, round with heavy lids and bruise colored circles above his cheek bones. Spencer's eyes held this wisdom beyond his years; he seemed to have seen so much for someone so young.

The phone rang again as she took her timid first sips of tea. She had to answer the phone sooner or later and felt bad about keeping Ryan waiting. He was the best manager she could ask for, always sensitive to her need for free time and lack of motivation for "advancing her career", but he knew when she needed a kick in the ass to get some work done.

"Yo." she startled the dog resting on her foot as she got up to answer the phone. He groaned with irritation as she walked away, his chubby legs gaining speed, following her steps closely.

"That's not how you answer the phone." she laughed at his attempt to polish her behavior; something he's been trying to do for years to no avail

"Oh, but it _is_." Boo's chubby legs prepared to pounce. "How are you, Uncle Ry?" The tiny dog readied himself to sit back on his perch, but his owner moved a bit too quickly.

"I'm doing good, darlin'." His Louisiana-bred accent carried through the receiver. "You Sleep alright? You didn't play last night did you?"

"It was only a song or two." she fibbed.

She mostly avoided the truth to protect his nerves, glancing down at her old dog she made a face. Ryan was convinced that she was going to overwork myself one of these days and that the performance anxiety she occasionally experienced on stage wouldn't help. She figured two unauthorized sets in one night would send him into full on convulsions.

"You weren't nervous or anything.." He began.

"Nope. It was actually really relaxing to be up there." he grunted an approval.

"You have to be at the SONY offices at ten," he brought his tone back to business. "as I was trying to say when you screened my last call."

"Yeah, yeah. " she held on to her tea cup as Ryan rapidly rolled through the rest of her plans for the day. "I'll be leaving in a bit. I have to go. Love you!"

"Alright, I'll see you later. Love you." he hung up and Bucephalus attempted to squat down once more, this time landing squarely on Kat's left foot.

"Want to come with me today, Boo?" The dog looked up and nuzzled into her waiting hand before picking himself up and strutting out of the room. "Guess not."

**Indianapolis International Airport, Indianapolis, IN: **

"You seem tired." J.J. commented as she pulled her go bag down from the overhead compartment, her pretty blonde ponytail slapping against her shoulders. Spencer nodded towards her with a yawn, pulling the cup of coffee he'd been nursing for most of the ride closer to him. "exciting night?"

"Not really, no." He reached into his pocket and flipped open his phone to check for messages, wondering if he wrote out the right number on the napkin. Finding nothing, he closed it again.

"Spence," Motherly concern drenched her voice, "you sleeping alright?"

"I _have _been sleeping." his voice was still semi-deep from the very light sleep he'd managed during the very short flight. He didn't normally get much rest on the plane, opting to read instead, and this short ride had been no exception.

But, somehow he drifted off for a half hour and his case file had been bent and wrinkled under his body and had a few coffee stains from turbulence.

Spencer always hated when the papers became creased, though he could easily scroll through the paragraphs in his head and sort through the words, the tangible folder and papers made him feel like he could follow along with the team.

"Alright." Her blue eyes settled on his face offering him a chance to open up, his eyebrows knit together in annoyance.

"Really, I'm fine."

"Okay." She didn't look like she believed him. He sipped at the coffee that had long since gone cold. Cringing as the cold sweet liquid worked its way down his throat, his eyes squinted and his lips puckered. Hoping her gaze would drift from the dark circles forming under his eyes to something else, he tilted his head back, almost in a yawn, but he'd only managed to drip some coffee on his shirt.

"Reid, you and Rossi are going to head to the most recent scene. Keep a close eye on the girl's parents and the surrounding neighbors as the other victims are all from within a mile." Hotch shuffled the papers that rested in his lap into a crisp manila folder that made the younger agent feel a bit self-conscious about his sloppy presentation.

The Unit Chief always looked awake and agile- more warrior than scientist-making Spencer catch that unwanted glimpse at his disheveled presence. The new stain on his shirt was still dark and wet, so the breeze blowing outside would definitely leave a chill on his chest the moment he stepped out of the plane. Everything about his reflection seemed inferior to that of Aaron Hotchner, with his broad shoulders, strong jaw and crew cut, he seemed ready to catch the bad guys. He'd often thought he looked more like a teacher's aid than an FBI agent and the testosterone-filled vibrato of Morgan, Rossi and Hotch never ceased to make him feel unworthy of his badge and gun.

"So, the UnSub is likely to be close by and keeping an eye on the investigation." Rossi added swinging the keys on his pointer fingers, "We got it."

The two eased towards the car, Dave settling in the driver's seat and starting the vehicle while Spencer straggled into the passenger's side. David Rossi had always been a hero of Spencer's, the way most great men who excelled in their fields became heroes. Rossi, unlike every other profiler he had met (save for Gideon), had little fear of his emotions; He had an enlightened approach to the science that kept him believing that they could know the minds of men as well as they do and still have faith in humanity.

"So, what's her name?" Rossi checked his rear-view mirror as he spoke, catching Spencer off-guard. His hand wandered towards his pocket, fingering the phone.

"Uh- I-erm who?"

"The reason you've checked your phone fifteen times since we landed, the reason you and Morgan were late to take-off and the reason you're turning that interesting shade of pink." Spencer cursed under his breath, chastising himself for letting his guard down around profilers.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"We haven't seen you with a girl for a long time." he steered the car with the heel of his palm, "It's just nice to see you looking happy. Remember to be safe -"

"David!" the heat rose in his cheeks, completely mortified. "I'm not a child and that's not really your concern and I just met her and she hasn't even called me!"

"Just messing with you, kid. But, there is a girl?" he rose a haggard eyebrow and the old man's eyes lit up with a laugh.

"I don't know..maybe." Spencer's eyes found the floor of the SUV, staring at the gum rappers and old cigarette butts on the floor.

"Hopefully, you'll have something to say about it when we get back. She'll call, I'm sure of it."

"Thanks." his phone was lead in his pocket for the next few hours as he and David talked to the parents of the missing girl.

Bright eyed and ambitious, Carlee Nichols was the kind of girl who'd never run away, the type of girl who wouldn't go near a stranger; she was exactly the type their UnSub loved to go after.

Spencer looked at the way the family photos were arranged, looking for some insight. The two blond children appeared in every photo with beaming smiles, arms tangled. As they got older, the boy stood in front of his sister or behind in a way that was almost menacing as it was protective.

Carlee's brother paced the floor behind him as Spencer took note of the positioning and the facial expressions. They were happy.

"What exactly is your being here doing to find my baby sister?" the boy's strong twang barked at Spencer. Carey Nichols was a burly boy whose blond hair was uncharacteristically disheveled and his blue eyes were red from the tears he hid from his family. He had always considered it his job to look after his sixteen year old sister ever since their family moved from rural North Carolina; his biggest fear was that upon going off to UNC to play ball he'd be leaving his sister to fend for herself.

"By getting a reading of your family dynamic, we can get the idea of what your sister may have been lured away with."

"Michael Richards lost his sister two months ago." Carey's eyes were ablaze, "She was in the year above Carlee, gone for a week without no one hearing nothing. Next thing we know we hear 'bout a body in the creek a ways from here." tears welled, "Don't let that be my little sister too."

David glanced at the paperwork he had with information on the past victims. Richards, Jamie : the first victim. Survived by her brother and mother, she was a varsity cheerleader. Her brother played for the local high school as the running back.

"Do you think there could be a connection between the victims that we missed?" Rossi looked to Spencer. "like did they all have football playing brothers or cousins? Maybe they were all athletes?"

"It could say something about the type, but it's worth checking out. I'll call Garcia." Spencer nodded to Carey and David before moving out of the house to make the call.


End file.
